A Thing For You
by Vitaminkate
Summary: Awkward glances. Disastrous pasts. The littlest things that you do, and what they do to me.  Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. flashfiction, a little fluffy and cute.


**A Thing For You**

Tonks had always had a thing for a gentleman. Always. She'd never really told anyone, because really she'd never told herself. Since school, she'd be looking at her professors with that glassy eyed look, instead of the immature boy next to her. That warmth in their eyes, the kind voice they spoke in. Tonks just adored it, and felt weak in the knees while she sat at her desk. Little school girl crushes is what she described them if she had to, dreaming about them all day but never thinking of acting on them, Instead, she pretended, pretended all the time to everyone, even herself. Copied her friends, giggling after the bigheaded Ravenclaw Keeper in the year above, sticking photos of some singer from some band to the side of her bed. Covering up her longful stares in the classroom as simply paying attention. Staying behind after the bell to snatch a few words of conversation with a Professor . Of course she was wanted to take Muggle Studies at NEWT. People thought that Tonks could have dated any boy in the school. She could be anyone, so she could have anyone, her pick of hundreds of boys who simply craved her. But she didn't want a boy. She needed a man. Yet of course, sixteen year old girls never truly get what want, so she tried painfully to fit in. A few snogs around the back of the greenhouses, a handful of weeklong relationships. The closest she got to a dream, was Charlie Weasley. His mature stubble on his upper lip, his harsh voice which came from smoking from his bedroom window. Whenever they entwined, she could almost taste his his demeanour, his heart. The long discussions they had about everything and nothing, about dragons and dark wizards, but nothing ever came to fruit. Things crumble, even if they were strong at the beginning.

Remus always had a thing for independent women. Always. He had never really had that much success with women, he wasn't Sirius. He had more baggage than many other men, and was often too blind to see women. But he knew what he liked. He loved a woman who could stand on her own two feet. A woman who could be anything, if that's what she wanted. Unlike him. He hated himself, his body for being what it was, his heart for wanting what it could never have. Lily, for example, who had chosen his best friend over him. His heart was splintered when he first saw hanging off his arm, laughing at his jokes, kissing his lips. Over the years, it slowly numbed, but every time he looked at his best friend's wife, the lupine heart still skipped. Marlene took some of the pain away. Marlene, the girl in the year below, who had kissed Remus under the mistletoe by mistake. Marlene, the one who had not run a mile when she learnt the secret. The one who had accepted Remus for every scar he had, and loved him all the more for them. Remus's first, and probably last. Marlene and Remus, members of the Order, ready to take on the world as long as they had each other. Marlene, who had been brutally murdered. He had left her, only for one night, just for the full moon, just to keep her safe. Remus returned in the morning, knowing that a single kiss from Marlene would take away his pain. There was nothing. Nothing left. Just him, screaming with guilt, hating, loathing, this creature he saw in the mirror, because it was the only thing left to blame. Nothing left. Marlene was dead. Lily was dead. Everyone had left him. Things crumble, even if they were strong at the beginning.

And there he stood. Perfect. Tonks could feel the years sliding back through the kitchen, and here was Nymph, sixteen years old and staring at a dream. Leaning gently on the mantle, a weathered book in his hands and a weathered look on his face. Others came into focus, but none so brightly as him. Introductions, handshakes, smiles. Seated next to each other at dinner, maybe it was fate, or maybe it was Molly sensing something. Polite conversation turning into avid discussions, brushing hands and brushing legs. Every meeting, without fail, his breath tinged with coffee in her ear, whispering some inside joke which ended in silent giggles. How he was always the first to offer a hand when she fell, and how he was the last to pull her in when she was about to leave. She knew his secret by now, but thought not twice on it. He was different, but not how everyone else thought. He would fold down pages of his books that he thought she might like. He would warm her hands in his if they had a cold night duty together. She knew it was just a dream, just her who felt these things. Remus was too good for her. To him, she's probably just a friend. No, certainly just a friend. A fellow member, a school-girl with a crush, nothing more or less. Thirteen years must feel much bigger for him. But she just couldn't stop that feeling, nothing not felt for years. How she blushed when he caught her staring, when she tripped and fell into him, when he kissed her cheek for a farewell, when she saw him in the kitchen when he thought he was alone. She really couldn't forget that last one. This felt real. As real as it gets. But, of course, who could love her? Definitely not him.

And there she stood. Perfect. Remus could feel his whole body stutter under the gaze of such a beautiful woman. Here she was, standing brand new in a cluttered kitchen with cluttered people. They way she tucked that piece of hair behind her ear. How she gently bit her lower lip when confronted with something serious. Reaching for the same piece of bread over dinner. You have it. No, you have it. Every meeting, without fail, she'd greet him with a unbelievable hug, slightly tugging at the top of his back. Remus tried to waft these tiny thoughts from his mind, but they seemed to always swarm back in. She knew his secret, but didn't mind, didn't care, which shocked him more than anything else. She was different, but not how everyone else thought. She would change her hair to his favourite blue if he looked saddened. She would write jokeson the bathroom mirror after her steamy shower. He knew it was just a dream, just him who felt these things. Tonks was too good for him. To her, he's probably just a friend. No, certainly just a friend. A fellow member, an old man with a fascination, nothing more or less. Thirteen years must feel much bigger to her. But he just couldn't stop that feeling, something not felt for years. What he felt when he saw her greeting Charlie Weasley, envied him for being lucky enough once. What his heart did when he saw her entering the room in a stumble. What colour he turned when she leant across the table towards him in a low-cut top. He really couldn't forget that last one. This felt real. As real as it gets. But, of course, who could love him? Definitely not her.


End file.
